Sixty-Two
Blinding light.
Beeping.
Clarence felt his face. Bandages covered his eyes.
Hard plastic over his nose and mouth. He ripped it off.
"Uh-uh, Jailbird. Not on my watch."
Raspy voice.
Someone pulled something over his head and pressed plastic over his nose and mouth.
He ripped it off and tossed it. Landed somewhere with a splot.
Giggles.
Someone grabbed his wrist. "Just checking your pulse."
He groaned. Phew! What was that smell?
"Is he in pain?" A soft voice. Who?
"Probably. He's mad about the oxygen mask and that I'm messing with him." The nurse leaned close. "You are one lucky son-of—"
Bea! He grabbed at her. "Where's Bea?"
He ripped bandages from his eyes and rubbed them. Flowers lined a high shelf and window ledge. Flowers? Sunlight streamed through the blinds at
